


This is a Gift

by abigaillecters



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Drabble, F/M, hannigail, idk man, rabbit heart, song prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-20
Updated: 2013-05-20
Packaged: 2017-12-12 09:35:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/810078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abigaillecters/pseuds/abigaillecters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>abigail is prepared to do what it takes to get hannibal to keep her secret.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This is a Gift

**Author's Note:**

> prompted by the always lovely yellowpandaification on tumblr! the title is a line from the song Rabbit Heart- Florence + the Machine. yeah this is my drabble i hope you like it. the world could use more hannigail..

I start spinning, slipping out of time

Was that the wrong pill to take? 

"This isn't happening" is the only thought running through her mind. But it is happening and there is nothing she can do to stop the blood pouring out of the slit in the stomach of the boy with the ginger hair. Abigail Hobbs is the reason that Nicholas Boyle is dead.

Red is the only color that she sees. There's so much blood. She's afraid that the boy's blood will seep through her skin, into her veins, and mix with her own. She will never be rid of Nicholas Boyle.

She doesn't remember how it happened but she finds herself on the second floor of the place that used to be her home. Something's happened to Alana Bloom but Abigail can't think about that right now. All she can think about is the fact that it feels like someone is pressing a brick to her chest and the blood on her hands is making them sticky.

When Hannibal asks her to show him what happened, his voice doesn't have any trace of anger or judgment in it. When he asks her to show him what happened, he wants to help her. 

They're standing over the dead boy with the ginger hair and she's hearing what Hannibal is saying but she isn't listening. Her cerulean eyes wide and her hands still cupped and soaked with blood she only manages to say four words.

"I didn't...I wasn't"

She turns to face him and his eyes are cold and calculating. Something within her tells her that he's done this before, that this man with the crisp suits and the deep voice is harboring dark secrets much like the one she assumes she is going to be saddled with for the rest of her life. 

He tells her that they can hide the body and her mouth goes dry. One of the corners of Hannibal's mouth turns up in a bit of a half-smile and she knows she is going to listen to his advice. There's something about the look in his eyes that both terrifies her and gives her a sort of sense of security. 

Here I am, a rabbit hearted girl

Frozen in the headlights

It seems I've made the final sacrifice

The sound of leaves and twigs snapping under their feet as Abigail and Hannibal walk through the woods to bury Nicholas' body put her so on edge that she can feel the screams building up in her throat. Hannibal turns to look at her and suddenly she feels calmer, not at ease per se but she no longer looks over her shoulder every five seconds to make sure that they're not being followed. 

"This, uh, this spot is good," she points to a patch of earth covered by dead leaves in between two trees. 

They set down the boy's body as Hannibal hands the shovel they found in the garage to her so he can remove his jacket. Her hands feel weak, almost numb. She almost drops the shovel but Hannibal's quick. His capable hands catch hers and keep the shovel from falling. As his fingers curl over hers she feels something akin to an electric shock run up her spine and her stomach feels like its in her throat. 

Abigail watches, wide-eyed with both intrigue and fear as Hannibal buries Nicholas Boyle's body in the dark, damp earth. She wishes that her memories of him and what she did are going to disappear alongside him but when she looks down at her hands the blood is still there and she still killed him.

Hannibal is throwing the last shovelful of dirt on the crudely constructed grave as Abigail leans against the trunk of a pine tree and hugs her knees to her chest. "I'm a killer" her voice is cracked, broken.

"You are not a killer, Abigail" he hears the chattering of her teeth and puts his jacket around her frail shoulders.

"But I...I butchered him didn't I?" hot tears well up in her blue eyes.

"Abigail, there are killers and there are those who have killed. You, my dear, are the latter," as the words leave his mouth she shakes her head, unconvinced. 

She can't hold the tears in anymore and suddenly she's sobbing. Her shoulders are shaking, her eyes burn, and her cheeks are slippery. She cries to the point where she doesn't even know why she's crying.

Hannibal doesn't really know how to comfort her. The most that he does for his patients is offer tissues but he wants to help this poor, sobbing girl. When he puts his arms around her she instinctively leans into him. His chest is hard yet warm and comforting. He puts a hand on her cheek and wipes some of her tears away with his thumb and she can't see straight anymore. 

Midas is king and he holds me so tight

And turns me to gold in the sunlight

Abigail leans into Hannibal's chest, tears staining his expensive shirt. She clings to him practically wanting to pull him into her. She buries her face in his neck and finds herself pressing her lips to his skin. The skin on his neck is smooth and taut and so she moves her lips up to his chin and then to his lips. He doesn't object outright and he lets her kiss him. 

He can tell that she knows what she's doing. Her lips are warm and soft and the kisses are light yet powerful.

She lets her hands wander down his chest to the top of his trousers. Her hands start to undo his belt when Hannibal stiffens and moves his lips away from her neck.

"Abigail, no.." he moves her hands away and gets up, adjusting his clothes as he stands. 

She takes a deep breath and tries to collect herself. With shaky hands she smooths her hair and reties her scarf that had slipped when Hannibal's lips wandered to the tough, almost plastic-like skin of her scar. 

"I-I'm sorry I just thought-" the tears are starting to pool again.

"Thought what, Abigail?"

The sound of her own name cuts her like a knife and Hannibal is rubbing salt into her wound.

"I thought that that's what you wanted." she doesn't want to lie to him. Abigail's going to be lying for the rest of her life and telling the truth about this is a kind of relief.

"You thought I wanted you to seduce me?" he doesn't sound offended, merely curious.

"I did it because I thought that if I didn't, you would tell people that I killed Nicholas Boyle," she hands Hannibal's jacket back to him and as her fingers graze his she can't deny what she feels for him.

Hannibal clears his throat and tucks a stray strand of dark chestnut hair behind Abigail's ear. "Abigail, you did not need to do that. I think we should talk about this." He doesn't really want to admit to himself or to Abigail that he wants her so he keeps a degree of distance. 

"No. I don't want to talk about this. I am so sick of talking about things. I am going to be in therapy probably for the rest of my life and I don't need therapy from you," her voice gets grittier, darker.

"Very well then Miss Hobbs. I'll bring you back to the house if you wish," something Abigail admires about Hannibal is his ability to always remain the perfect gentleman under pressure. 

She shakes her head, letting him know that she wants to be alone. He doesn't say another word, he simply walks back to the house and cleans up the last bits of the mess that he and Abigail have made.

I look around, but I can't find you 

If only I could see your face

Instead of rushing towards the skyline 

I wish that I could just be brave

A few days later Abigail finds herself in the mezzanine above Hannibal Lecter's office, running her fingers across the shelves and shelves of books. When he tells her to come down from there she obliges, her body practically floating towards the ladder. Her hand is in his again as she climbs down and she feels the spark again. Her breathing is quick and shallow and she knows that this is her only chance to confront him about what she knows.

She tells him that she knows it was him who called the house. Something about his answer doesn't quite add up but for whatever reason she accepts it. She has to.

"I made a mistake, something easily misconstrued" he says, voice tightening. "Not unlike yourself." the way he looks into her eyes makes her want to crawl out of her skin.

"And I'll keep yours," she replies.

"No more climbing walls, Abigail."

She watches him walk away, hands in his pockets and feels a sense of relief wash over her. The corners of her lips turn up in a weak smile. They are going to keep each other's secrets. For Abigail, the playing field is level now. She's made her final sacrifice.


End file.
